


Pickles’ cock

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have no excuse for this, a comment set me off.  It happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pickles’ cock

It was Murderface who decided to play that leaked (and possibly doctored) footage from the rehab clinic. The others just groaned. This, _again_?  
“Would you look at that, Picklesch doeschn’t even have a cock! You know who hasch one? I do!”  
“Ja Murderface, we knows, we has all seen it ways too much.” Thanks to being in Dethklok, Murderface’s cock had more appearances than a leading porn star’s. Buy of course, far less pussy. Less pussy by far? Either way.

“We’re all dudes. We all have cocks. That’s how dudes work.” Nathan had liked biology class, you got to cut shit up.  
“Moiderface just gots the jealoisies because Pickle lets me pets his.”  
“Yeah, Murderface is- Wait, what did you just say?!”   
“Pickle, there’s nothings good on the tv’s, can I plays with you’s cock?”  
“Yeah sure, dood! But in my room, okie? You guys wanna come too?” Pickles grinned at them invitingly. 

Nobody said a word. Maybe they were rendered speechless? “Eh screw them, cahm on, Toki.”  
They headed off together, Toki looking _way_ too excited to be heading for... _that_. Unless he really was into that?  
“Thisch is too gay again, I’m going to my room where it’sch _not_ gay.” Murderface stalked off.  
Nathan and Skwisgaar looked at each other, both thinking.

“This is really gay to even ask, but is Toki going to jack off Pickles? I mean, is that what he’s into?”  
"I has no idea actuallies. In spites what you t’inks, we amns’t got nothings going on.” Skwisgaar made intense thinking faces. “Shoulds we follows dem?”  
“You mean so we can see that it’s all a misunderstanding and stop thinking about this? Fuck yeah!”  
And with that, they headed for Toki’s room.

The room was empty, even the adjoining bathroom.  
“There’s no one here!”  
“Waits, Pickle says his room, rights?”  
“Oh. Yeah, probably.”

And so they reversed directions, trekking back through the haus and to Pickles’ room.  
But as they approached the closed door, Toki’s yell stopped them in their tracks.  
“ARGH, YOU’S COCK GETS WHITES STUFF ALLS OVER MY PANTS! I’S GOINGS TO RIPS ITS FUCKINGS HEAD OFFS!”  
“TOKI, STAWP CHOKIN’ MY CHICKEN! I MEAN IT, LET GO!”

Nathan and Skwisgaar stared at each other in horror, both instinctively cupping their junk. There were sounds of a struggle from inside the room. What the hell was going on in there?!  
They wanted to retreat, but what if Pickles needed help? If Toki killed Pickles (or ripped his cock off) that would be bad.  
But as they hesitated, the sounds died down. They stepped closer to the door to listen more, unsure of what to do.

“I thought you had a real cool cock, Pickle. But it’s not very fun at all.”  
“These things happen when you play with cocks! You probably just grabbed it too hard!”  
“You means the white stuff comes out because I squeezes it? Is it okays?”  
“Yeah, I think so, seems fine. But dood, you gotta be gentle! I’m not gonna let you play with it anymore, okie?

Nathan and Skwisgaar barely had time to jump back before the door opened and Toki stomped past them, and down the hallway.  
Well they were (sort of) busted, so they might as well go in. Pickles was sitting on the bed with his back to them, kind of hunched over strangely.  
“Uh, Pickles? Are you okay?”  
“Yeah. Kid grew up on a farm, you’d think he’s know how to handle a cock prah’perly.”

“So... ams you’s cock okays?” Skwisgaar had never really expected to have to ask that question.  
“Yeah, he seems to be.” He turned his head, looking at them. “What are you guys doin’ here anyway?”  
“Well you dids invites us.” It was true, he had. “Heys, why ams you sittings dat way? You said you ams not hurts.”  
“Yeah, why are you all hunched like that? Do you, uh, need a doctor? Or something?”

Instead of answering, Pickles turned.  
He was holding a chicken.  
Well, a rooster.  
A cock.


End file.
